Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Christmas Eve
CHRISTMAS EVE
WOULD Jesus come to me, Mither,
The morrow's Christmas morn,
Wearin' the bonny smile he had
That day that he was born,
Around his head a wreath o' light,
And not a twig o' thorn,—
I'd open wide the doore, Mither,
The way that he'd come in;
And not to gi' him pain at all,
I'd keep my heart from sin;
And all I could to pleasure him
I'd right at once begin.
Not in a stall should he be laid,
But on me own fine bed;
And half me porridge wi' me own
Small spoon should he be fed,
The while his Mither smiled, and shared
Wi' you the bit o' bread.
'T would be a time o' joy, Mither!
But thinkin' o' they things,
'T is may-be well he should be there,
Wi' ward o' angel-wings;
I doubt they'd miss him so!—the kine,
The shepherds, and the kings!